From Darkness Back To Light
by RosalieCullen93
Summary: After the war Hermione is broken. Tormented by her memories she retreats into alcoholism and revenge fantasies. Can Ron lead her back into light?
1. Chapter 1

Hermione woke up around 10:45 and checked her sheets. She hadn't wet the bed. She mentally congratulated herself. She hadn't wet the bed in a week. The nightmare had still come however. Harry's dead body. Voldemort's hideous face. Bellatrix standing over her. She could still feel the pain of the Cruciatus curse. In the beginning she had woken up screaming. The nightmares hadn't started till after the Battle of Hogwarts. She had gone home, restored her parent's memories and moved back in with them. About a month later she'd moved out. Her mum said her drinking had gotten out of control. Hermione agreed, but she didn't want to do anything about it. Hermione got out of bed and wandered to the kitchen. She poured herself a shot of whiskey from the same bottle she'd drank from last night. She continued reading the book on Celtic history she'd checked out from the library. She'd been out of Hogwarts for a year and a half, but couldn't keep her nose out of books. She smiled at that. Part of her old self was still in there, buried beneath the alcoholism and the nightmares and the bedwetting. She wondered if she should shower this morning. She wondered if she should go to college. There were about one-thousand things she wondered as she poured herself a second shot. The whiskey took away the memories. She hadn't talked to Ron or Harry or Ginny in ages. The Death Eaters could have come back and killed them and she wouldn't know. She had dropped out of the wizarding world. Too many memories. She'd signed up for college classes and dropped out of that after a week. She'd dropped out of everything. There was nothing left for her to drop out of. Her mum and dad called her every so often to remind her that she was "a very smart girl" and "used to have ambitions" and "whatever happened to wanting to teach?" She didn't know what to tell them. She'd just nod and tell them what she assumed they wanted to hear. She'd promised to go to rehab so many times the words had lost all meaning. She actually considered going to rehab once or twice. She poured herself a third shot. She wasn't going to get any better .It was a slow way to kill herself, but she was too much of a coward to off herself any other way. She truly disliked pain.

"_Crucio!"_

She shuddered as she remembered the wild-haired witch and the painful curse jolting her body. She held her head and decided to forget the shots and chugged the rest of the bottle.

_That was a bloody stupid thing to do. _She thought as she slid from the chair. If she had her wand she'd just use it to get rid of the now pounding headache. But she'd left her wand somewhere by a train station. She'd decided magic had no place in her life anymore. She was beginning to regret that decision, beginning to long for the power of magic to flow through her body once more. It must be that wizard blood of hers. Trying to embrace her muggle heritage was pointless. Once you tasted that kind of power there was no going back. The problem was that if she did go back she'd probably turn into a dark wizard. She had too much anger and hatred. The first month after the Battle of Hogwarts she'd dreamed about torturing Bellatrix, slowly dismembering her. The next few nights had all been of her slowly becoming a dark wizard, using her spells to torture her enemies. Those dreams frightened her far more than the dreams where she was the one being tortured. She wondered if that's how dark wizards got their start. The anger and the hatred took over till that was what was fueling your magic.

_The first muggle-born dark-wizard…that'd be an accomplishment, now wouldn't it?_ She thought to herself as she struggled back onto the chair. She laid her head on the table.

"I've got to get myself back together." She muttered. That didn't seem possible though. She rubbed her arm where her skin was still lightly scarred. She could just barely make out the slur. She felt anger rising in her as she looked at it.

Mudblood. A cruel laugh escaped her lips. It was not mud that flowed through her veins, but the blood of the greatest dark wizard that ever lived. She had stumbled upon that when she was doing family research at fourteen. Her line traced back to Herpo the Foul, Herpo the Foul who had hatched the first basilisk, Herpo the Foul who had created the first horcrux. When they had gone searching for Voldermort's horcruxes she had convinced herself that she needed the books on dark magic for research. That was only partially true. She had always been fascinated by dark magic, a fascination she had tried to hide away and control. Sometimes she'd spent entire evening in the library reading books on dark magic, fascinated by it. Magic came easy to her, easier than it should come to a muggleborn. She had mastered most of it by her third year at Hogwarts. That was how she'd wound up studying the dark arts. It was a way to pass the time, to satisfy her restless intellect. The dark arts called to her, they tempted her to give in to her wrath, her anger and her hatred.

But she knew she couldn't give in. If she did she'd wind up like Voldermort, a soulless shell or Bellatrix, driven completely mad.

But if she had all that power she'd never be afraid again. No one dared to call a dark wizard mudblood. She could be strong and powerful. She'd always desired knowledge and she could have all the knowledge of magic, including forbidden knowledge. Nothing was more tempting to her than forbidden knowledge.

The darkness called to her and she knew that she had to answer. But then she began imagining how her friends would see her. A traitor, evil, soulless. What would Ron think? Would Ron kill her if she turned? Would she kill him? She imagined a twisted version of herself standing over Ron's dead body. She then made her way to the refrigerator and got a beer. She chugged it within minutes then passed out on her kitchen floor.

When she woke up she was on the couch with a blanket wrapped around her. She held her head.

"Bloody _hell_ Hermione you don't look too good."

She looked around. Ron was standing behind the couch looking down at her.

"A bit early too be drinking isn't it?" He asked.

"Shut up, Ron." She said nearly reflexively. "What…wait, why are you in my apartment?"

"Your door was unlocked."

Hermione shifted on the couch. "That doesn't answer my question."  
"We've been worried about you. And guess who showed up at my door this morning? Trelwaney. Said you were in danger and she even predicted where you'd be."  
_That old loony? _"Yeah well I'm fine."  
"Passing out drunk is not what I'd call fine. It's not even one o'clock yet."

"What's it to you?" Hermione asked, growing annoyed.  
"Because I'm your friend?" He offered. He lightly stroked her cheek. "Actually, I thought we were more than friends."  
"We were." She said sadly.

"What'd I do?" He asked.

"You didn't do anything. I chose to leave that life behind." She explained.

"Why?" He asked, insistent.

"You really want to know Ron?" She held up her arm so he could see the insult carved into it. "Because I don't belong in that world."

He held her arm and kissed it. His lips tickled. It was so Ron-like that she started laughing. A real laugh, not the bitter cackle she'd developed. He blushed.

"What'd I do?"  
She sat up on the couch and hugged him. "I missed you, Ron."

"I missed you too." He hugged her back. "Why'd you leave? The real reason?"  
"I had too many memories in the wizarding world. You were one of the good memories, Ron. You and Ginny and Harry and Luna…. But there were others. I can't go back to Hogwarts. I remember the battle, the smell of death, your brother…" She teared up. Ron hugged her.

"I know how you feel Hermione." He let her go, then sat down beside her. She leaned into his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her.

"Admit it, Ron. If you had another world to go back to, wouldn't you leave? I know, it's not very brave of me, but I needed to get away."  
"How've you done in the muggle world?" He asked, sounding genuinely interested.

"Not too well. I dropped out of college after a week. I genuinely thought my mum was going to track me down and slipper me silly."

"My mum would've." Ron's eyes widened. "You dropped out of college?"  
"I showed up to class drunk." She explained. "The professor said I had to choose between my education and my drinking. Guess which one I chose?"  
"Hermione, you didn't drink this much back when I knew you. What happened?"  
She suddenly pushed Ron away and stood up. "God _damn _you purebloods are sodding stupid aren't you?! I was tortured, Ron, tortured into bloody unconsciousness! Don't you think that might affect me?! I still have nightmares! I drink to get through it! "  
"I might be stupid, Hermione, but at least I'm smart enough to know when I need help." Ron said.

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Did my parents send you here?"  
"No." He said. "But you can't drink your life away. Have you even looked into getting help for this? Talking to someone?"

"Who Ron? Certainly not a muggle, I'd be locked away in a loony bin." _Though that might be where I belong. _

"We have psychologists, Hermione. Hell, we have rehab."

"I don't want to talk to a wizard, Ron. Well, except you."

"Why don't you want to talk to a wizard?"  
_Because I'm turning dark or insane, possibly both. _"I've been having thoughts Ron. _Dark _thoughts."

"What kind of dark thoughts?"  
"Dark thoughts as in the dark arts. As in tracking down every former Death Eater and torturing them with curses until they die in agony." Hermione clenched her fists as she said it.  
"Don't you think I've had the same thoughts?" Ron asked. "Don't you think I've fantasized about revenge ten-thousand times? You're not alone, Hermione."

He walked up to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "You don't have to face this alone."  
"I sometimes dream about becoming a dark wizard. What it would be like, what it would _feel _like. Remember all those books I read about the dark arts? I think they infected me." She said.

Ron held her close to himself and whispered in her ear, "You could never be evil, Hermione. You could never go dark dark. You're good."

"Haven't you wondered, just for a split second, why I'm so brilliant? Why I seem to have an intuitive grasp on magic-including dark magic? My ancestor was Harpo the Foul."  
His grip on her didn't waver. "We're cousins then. Harpo the Foul had ninety wives. Practically every wizard has some relation to him. Harry and Voldermort shared blood too, but you don't see him having a breakdown."  
"My hobby is reading about the dark arts, my ancestor was the greatest dark wizard of all time, I'm a drunk with serious PTSD and none of this bothers you? Not even a bit?"

"Of course it bothers me." Ron responded. "It bothers me because it bothers _you. _I hate seeing you like this."

"You don't have to look then." Hermione muttered.

"I want to let you know that I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you, alright?"

He spun her around so she was facing him. She refused to look him in the eye.

"You're going to get help, Hermione. Muggle or wizard, whichever you prefer, but you will get help." He said in a commanding tone she'd never heard him use before.

She rested her head on his chest. "Ron, please, please go away. I don't want for you to see me like this."  
"I'm not going anywhere." Ron told her. "Not until you promise me you'll get the help you need."

"Fine, I promise." She said. "I'll check into St. Mungo's tomorrow."  
"Good. I'll check to see that you do."  
He kissed her forehead. She grabbed him by the collar and kissed him fiercely before letting him go.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"Hello, my name is Hermione Granger and…and…well, half of you know who I am already."  
"Hi, Hermione." The support group responded. Hermione, true to her promise to Ron, had checked into St. Mungo's hospital. The medi-witch suggested she go to a support group for those with post-traumatic stress disorder. Hermione hadn't thought of it before, but she definitely had those symptoms. She decided to check out the support group. Many of the members had been in it for a year or a year and a half, since the war ended. The counselor, Aethereth Freud, was an older wizard with a long white beard and glasses. Hermione was reminded of Dumbledore upon seeing him. She recognized several members of Dumbledore's Army in the support group. Cho Chang and Marietta Edgecombe sat beside each other. She was surprised to see Marietta. Neville Longbottom was also there. He looked nervous. Like Hermione he had only recently started coming. Luna Lovegood was there, but only for Neville's support. She herself had apparently not suffered any trauma from the war. Luna gave Neville's hand a gentle squeeze.

"Neville, would you like to speak first?" Dr. Freud asked.

"Yes." Neville answered. "He…I mean…I had the nightmare again. It was that stupid snake again. He was devouring me."  
"Does anyone else here have nightmares?"  
Several hands shot up. Hermione, for once, kept her hand down.

_What am I thinking? I don't want to share my nightmares. They'll think I'm a crazy person!_

Marietta spoke. "I had a nightmare that all my friends died." Her voice broke. "Killed right in front of me."  
The anger Hermione had been feeling suddenly erupted. "Marietta, what the hell are you even doing here?! You're nothing but a traitor!"

Marietta looked down. "You're right."

Freud cleared his throat. "Miss Granger, Marietta is dealing with the same issues everyone else here is."  
"No she's not! I fought!" Hermione cried. "I fought and I almost died! I didn't see her at the Battle of Hogwarts!"

"Hermione, shut up!" Cho shouted.

"You shut up!"

"Well, at least Marietta's trying to make amends." Dean Thomas spoke up. "Do you know she's gone around and personally apologized to each one of us? Where have you been for the past year? Everyone's tried to contact you and no one's gotten a response. Not Harry, not Ron, not Ginny…no one."

Hermione decided to stop talking.

"It's a fair question, Miss Granger. Is there anything you'd like to share?" Freud said to her.

"Can I speak?" Marietta asked.

"Yes, Marietta, of course." Freud said.

"Hermione, I admit the way I behaved was cowardly and inexcusable. I have an unhealthy relationship with my mother. I…I crave her approval, I always have. She's a very harsh woman. I just wanted her to be proud of me. So much so that it blinded me to right and wrong. I should've been at the battle, but I wasn't. I shouldn't have betrayed the DA, but I did. I can't change that. I can go forward though." She smiled shyly at her. "You should try going forward sometime."

"I'd like to, Marietta. I really would." Said Hermione.

"What's stopping you?" Freud asked.

"I have nightmares like everyone else, but in the nightmares I-no, never mind."  
"If it's important, say it. This is a safe place." Freud assured her.

Hermione breathed deeply. Some of these people had been her friends. They had fought side-by-side. If she couldn't trust them, who could she trust?

"In the last days of the war I was tortured by Bellatrix LeStrange."  
There were visible gasps around the room. Apparently no one had known about that. "I still dream about it. I can still feel the pain of the curse going through my body."

"How does that make you feel?" Freud asked.

"Bloody _what_?" Hermione asked, stunned at the stupidity of the question.

"Does it make you feel sad? Frightened?" He paused. "Angry?"

"IT MAKES ME FEEL ANGRY!" She screamed standing up. The chair she'd been sitting on exploded. Splinters of wood flew around the room. Everyone stared at her. "IT MAKES ME WANT TO TRACK DOWN THE DEATH EATERS AND KILL THEM ALL!"

She realized with alarm that her magic had escaped her control and two vases had exploded. Marietta looked terrified. They all did. She stood there panting.

"….Bloody hell." She finally managed to say.

"I'll get you a second chair. These magical outbursts are quite common in those that have gone through your type of experience." Freud said. He left the room and returned shortly with a chair. Hermione sat down and put her face in her hands. Neville, noble, brave, Gryffindor incarnate Neville, walked over and put a hand on her back.

"I feel that way too, Hermione. I feel angry. We all do."  
"I have books on the dark arts and I plan out which spells I'd use on which Death Eater. Does that sound healthy to you?" Hermione asked.

"No, but after the battle I spent three days in my room sobbing." Neville said. "I felt like I was responsible for everything that'd happened."  
"Why?" Hermione asked.

"Because I killed that damned snake, but I didn't get Vo-Voldermort. If only I had…" Neville shook his head.  
"No one expected you too." Hermione pointed out.

"No, of course not. Did I say I was rational back then?" Neville asked.

"Hermione, everyone reacts to trauma differently." Dr. Freud explained. "Neville and Marietta reacted with guilt. You reacted with anger. The dark arts are fueled by anger. In that way, your fixation on the dark arts is normal."  
"How do I get better?" Hermione asked.

"It's a journey, Hermione. But you've taken the first step."

"I got into the dark arts too." Cho said.

"Really?" Hermione asked.

Cho nodded. "I was filled with so much anger back then."  
"What did you do?" Hermione asked. "To get rid of the anger I mean?"  
"First, I got rid of all my books on the dark arts. They're poison. And Dr. Freud showed me some techniques that helped. Like, redirecting your thoughts."  
"How?" Hermione really wanted to know.

"If you feel yourself getting angry just take a few deep breaths and try to redirect your thoughts to something else."

Hermione nodded. The basic concept made sense. "What else?"  
"What other problems do you have? Dean mentioned that you haven't contacted anyone." Dr. Freud said.

"He's right. I just…I dropped out of the wizard world. I tried being in the muggle world. Then, that didn't work out." She shook her head. "I haven't been able to do _anything _lately."  
"That's also a common occurrence after going through a trauma."

Hermione decided she was hogging the session so she was silent while the others spoke about their various traumas and how they dealt with them. They all spoke of anger and guilt and revenge fantasies.

_I'm not alone_. Hermione realized. At the end of the session the therapist gave them assignments for the week. Hermione's was to get out and visit someone. She knew exactly whom to visit.

About an hour later she stood at the Weasley's front door, knocking. Ginny opened the door and blinked like she was looking at a ghost. Then Ginny flung her arms around Hermione's neck in a bear hug.

"I haven't seen you in ages! Come in!"

She drug her in by the arm. "Mum! Guess who's here!"

Miss Weasley came down the stairs. "Hermione! Bloody hell, I thought you were dead except Ron said he saw you yesterday!"

_Merlin, have I really been THAT much of a recluse? _Hermione thought before realizing that she really had. Miss Weasley ran and gave her a hug. Hermione hugged back.

"Hi, is Ron here?"  
"Yes. Ron! Hermione's here!"  
Ron appeared at the head of the stairs. "Hermione!" He walked down and embraced her. She held onto him and didn't feel like ever letting go.

"Let's go up to your room, alright?" Hermione asked.

"Sure." Said Ron, as they walked up. Ron closed the door behind him.

"Did you do what we talked about?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, I did it. I'm in a support group now. I'm going to get better. I promise, Ron."

He smiled. "Good. I'll be with you…every step of the way."

She held onto him. "Will you be with me, after?"

He kissed her deeply. "I'll be with you as long as you want me too."

"How about forever?" She asked.  
"Forever sounds good to me." He said.

…

(A/N-For anyone thinking anyone's out of character, remember trauma can change personality. The symptoms described here as PTSD were explained to me by my psychology major fiancée so if there are any mistakes, blame him)


	3. Chapter 3

(A/N-Hooray! I finally updated!)

Hermione hesitated as she found herself back at a place she never thought she'd return to-the grounds of Hogwarts. For the past year she had been a broken, alcoholic mess. Now, she was ready to change. She had already started to control her craving for alcohol. Now she was ready to take another step. She clearly recalled her conversation that morning with-of all people-Pansy Parkinson who had joined her support group. Pansy had lost the love of her life. No, he hadn't died in war. Draco Malfoy was very much alive, but he was a different Draco Malfoy. The day after the war he had gone home, locked himself in his room and savagely slashed his left arm so that the Dark Mark was mutilated. Lucius had found him passed out from blood loss. Pansy said Lucius had been crying when he'd told her. Lucius had prided himself on one thing above all else-his lineage and the son that represented that lineage. Now, his son was in the mental health ward of St. Mungo's and he felt like an utter failure. Draco wasn't talking to anyone, not even Pansy. Pansy had tried everything she could think of to help him. When light magic no longer worked she turned to dark magic, performing ancient blood rites in the woods at night to try to draw enough magic energy to heal her boyfriend's mental state. She spent days studying old texts until finally she realized the truth-she couldn't help him and the dark magic was twisting her mind, making her angry at the world.

"So, what did you do Pansy?" Hermione had asked her.

"I took all the books of black magic I'd gathered and I burned them." She'd answered. "It helped me let go of my anger."

Hermione had nodded. Hermione had managed to start talking to people again, had begun to deal with her alcohol problem and had even managed to start going to college. However, the anger still burned in her soul. The disturbing revenge fantasies still came every night. For the sake of her sanity she HAD to give up the books on dark magic. And Hermione Granger hated giving up books. Nonetheless, she had decided to donate them to Hogwarts. Some of the books were cursed so that nothing could destroy them and she didn't want to bury them, she didn't know what insane dark wizard could get ahold of them if she did. They'd be safe at Hogwarts. Ron, who had become her near-constant travelling companion, gripped her hand as they approached the rebuilt school.

"C'mon, love. I'm here with you."  
Hermione nodded. The last time she had been here the bodies of the dying had littered the grounds. Today, it was calm. The sky was blue and clear and students were walking and talking together. No one would believe a year before it had been a battlefield. She took a deep breath and strode through the door, Ron right beside her.

"Miss Granger! And Mr. Weasley too! What a pleasant surprise!" Mrs. McGonagall came up to her. "It's been ages! What brings you out today?"  
"Hermione here wants to make a donation." Ron said.

Hermione spoke up. "Yes…you see I've made a bit of a collection and…well, I have no need for them anymore since the war ended and I would really like to donate them here."  
"A collection of books, I assume?" She asked. Hermione nodded.

"Well, come into my office. I'll have to take a look at them, see where to put them and all that."  
Hermione and Ron followed her. Hermione had put all the books in a suitcase. She'd collected about twenty-seven of them. Some of the books were so dark she doubted McGonagall would take them, but she needed to get rid of them.

_Oh, hell, she's going to think I'm a bloody loony! _She thought, about to panic as they entered the office. Ron, sensing this, began to rub the small of her back. She immediately relaxed, but then glared at Ron when his hand went down below her back.

"Really, Ron? Not here." She removed his hand. He smiled impishly.

"Maybe later?" He asked.

"Maybe." She promised.

She blushed when she realized McGonagall was staring at them and attempting not to laugh.

_Great, now she'll think I'm a dark wizard with a horny boyfriend_. A part of her told her that half of that was true, but she ignored it.

"Sit down, please." McGonagall told them.

They did. Hermione slowly unzipped her suitcase. McGonagall's eyes widened when she saw the titles of some of the books.

"Are they all on dark magic?" She asked.

"Yes ma'am." Hermione answered. McGonagall picked up _Advanced Curses and Counter-curses_.

"This one might be useful to our new Defense teacher." She mused. "If you don't mind me asking why do you have such a large collection on this subject?"

"During the war I wanted to know all I could about dark magic. I think I went a little overboard." It wasn't completely a lie. Maybe McGonagall wouldn't notice that half of the collection focused on revenge magic.

"I trust you've never used any of these spells?" She asked, a little softly. Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She'd thought about it.

"No." She answered honestly. How close had she come to plunging into the dark side?

McGonagall smiled. "Thank you for the donation, Miss Granger. Would you like to join me for tea?"  
"Yes ma'am I think I'd like that very much."

…

After Ron, Hermione and McGonagall had finished the tea and spoke for a bit they left her office. As Hermione walked through the familiar halls with a now empty bookcase she looked around. Had she just heard a scream? A shout of rage, a curse roared in anger? She shook her head, but she looked around and the room began to transform. She thought she glimpsed a Death Eater, his wand pointed at her, snarling "mudblood." She shuddered.

"Hermione, you alright?" Ron asked?  
"I'm fine, Ron." She lied. "Or, I will be."

They walked out into the warm air.

"Ron, do you ever think about the war?" Hermione asked.

"All the time Love." He answered her. A shadow crossed his face. "I think about my brother."  
"Oh God, Ron, I'm so sorry."

She hugged him. He hugged her. He was crying.

"I miss him, you know?"

She ran her fingers through his hair as he broke down crying on her shoulder.

"I-I'm sorry, Hermione, I'm supposed to be here for you, not the other way around."  
"We can be here for each other." She assured him, holding him tight. "I miss so many people Ron." She laughed. "I actually miss _Snape_ if you can believe that."  
"Yeah, I kind of miss that old pain-in-the-arse myself." He admitted. She wiped away his tears.

"We could visit their graves. How long has it been since you visited your brother's grave?" She asked.

"Not since his funeral. I haven't been able to go. And I imagine almost no one visits Snape's grave." He said.  
"Probably not. That's sad. Somebody ought to." She commented.

He drew back from her. "Let's do it, then. I think we ought to visit Snape first. I don't know if I'm ready to visit Fred's grave."

"You'll get there." Hermione told him. Snape's grave wasn't very far and it didn't take long for them to find the cemetery where he was buried. Someone had brought him a bouquet of flowers, probably Harry. He had told the truth about him and was still trying to get the wizarding world to accept him as a hero. The grave marker simply gave his name, date of birth and date of death. There were no adornments. Hermione and Ron knelt at the grave. They had both bought flowers at a nearby store.

"Hey, Professor." Hermione said, placing down the lilies she had bought. "I know we didn't always-well, never-got along, but I thought you might like these. I know about you and Harry's mum and I hope you met again in the afterlife…I hope you're happy wherever you are. I never told you, but I really did enjoy your class, it was challenging. You were a good professor."

"You really were, man." Ron added, laying down the flowers. They stayed there a few minutes. The wind blew around them. Hermione closed her eyes and imagined the wind was Snape's spirit come to acknowledge the gifts. She looked around her at the gravestones. There were too many names she recognized, fallen members of the DA and the Order of the Phoenix.

_You're alive though_. She thought suddenly. _You're alive and well and there's no point to being angry at the world for letting you live._

She didn't know if it was giving up the books on dark magic or just being at the cemetery, but she found herself starting to let go of her anger.

After they left Snape's grave Ron wanted to visit his brother. He said he had to do it alone. Hermione stayed outside the cemetery. Ron, appropriately enough, decided to bring a toy from the joke shop as a gift. Hermione imagined Fred would love that. Ron was at the grave for almost an hour and a half. She didn't know what he was saying, but she waited for him. Finally he returned. His eyes were red from crying, but he smiled when he saw her.

"You didn't have to wait for me." He told her.

"I just wanted to." She said, taking his hand. They walked back through town, going nowhere in particular. As she leaned into his side and he wrapped his arm around her she thought she might just be alright.


	4. Chapter 4

AA for wizards was like AA for muggles with one slight difference. Most wizards were followers of the pre-Christian religions so their twelve steps inserted the word "Gods" instead of God. Other than that, it was just about the same. Also, every meeting began with a group prayer to Apollo, the god of healing. Hermione didn't believe in God or Gods. She'd seen too many horrors and had become cynical.

"So you practice magic, but don't believe in God?" Her mum had rather skeptically asked her one time.

"Yes." Hermione had replied before rolling over to sleep in yet another Sunday. However, she went along with the prayer to Apollo. For "power greater than herself" she clung to some vague notion of a higher self. Being a semi-atheist at AA was hard, but she'd been sober for six months so she presumed that it was working.

At this AA meeting they were all discussing the twelve steps.

"Then I told mother how sorry I was for how I had treated her, that even though it was because of the alcohol there was no excuse for it. I felt better afterwards." John, the fellow that sat next to her explained. Step eight of the twelve steps was making amends to people you'd hurt while going through addiction. Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She had gotten stuck on step four. She'd made a fearless moral inventory. She hadn't liked what she'd seen and had decided to change. She didn't know if she could go farther than that. During her hermit days she hadn't hurt many people, but she had hurt her mother. She had driven home drunk one night, a few months after the war's end. Her mother had tried to take away her car keys. Hermione now saw that her mother had made the right decision in the attempt. She had been embracing a more and more self-destructive lifestyle. At the time, however, she had raged and screamed and finally struck her mother in the face before storming out with the keys. Her own mother! Hermione still felt shame at the thought of it. She hadn't seen her parents in ages and conversation with them was strained. After the meeting was over she made a decision. She was going to visit her parents. Ron was waiting for her as he always was. She took his hand. They had been sleeping together and not just for sex. They both still had nightmares and each other's presence was a comfort during those times. The first time Ron had slept over he'd had a nightmare. He had woken up screaming and she'd held him close till he'd gone back to sleep. They'd never spoken of the incident, but he seemed to need her as much as she needed him.

"So, how was the meeting?" He asked.

"It was…some times are harder than other times. Ron, have you ever done something really, really stupid?"  
Ron stared at her. "Hermione, you've known me since I was eleven. You've been there when I've done stupid, stupid things."

"I mean, like, let's say hitting your mum?"

Ron started laughing. "Never! I'd be too scared too."

"I hit my mum." Hermione admitted. "I was drunk and we were arguing and well…I'm pretty sure I destroyed our relationship."

"Have you ever talked about it with her?" Ron asked.

Hermione shook her head. "We've talked, but it's always so strained. I want to visit her tomorrow."

"Do you want me to come along? Just for support?"  
Hermione shook her head. "Remember the first time you visited your brother's grave and you had to do it alone? Well, this is something I have to do alone."

Ron nodded. "I understand."

…

The next day Hermione went to her parent's house for the first time in almost two years. That's how long it'd been since she'd spoken to her parents face-to-face. She nervously knocked on the door. Her dad answered.

"Hermione! It's been ages!" He swooped her up into a bear hug. She hugged back. "What are you doing here?"  
"I wanted to see you and Mum."  
"Come sit down." Her dad said. They sat down.

"Harold, who's at the door-Hermy!" Her mum greeted her by the nickname only her parents used. It was oddly comforting to hear it. "Hermy, it's been so long! How are you?" She went and sat down next to her daughter.

"I've been getting better. Really, I am. I mean, I'm sober now."  
"Thank God!" Her mother exclaimed as she embraced her prodigal daughter. "I know I haven't called in a long time, I'm sorry for that. I just got discouraged because you started hanging up and wouldn't talk."

"I'm sorry too, Mum. That's what I wanted to talk about. When I was drinking I behaved in ways that were irresponsible and inexcusable. Like the time I hit you for instance."  
"Oh that? That was nothing." Mrs. Granger said. "Forget about it."  
"No, it wasn't nothing. It was wrong. Please forgive me."

Mrs. Granger hugged her so tight that Hermione thought she'd never let go. She buried her face in her mother's hair and hugged her.

"Of course I forgive you, my darling child." She said softly.

"I was tortured." Hermione admitted weakly.

"What?" Her mother asked.

Hermione had never said those words to her parents. She tried to keep her muggle and wizard lives separate. The strain of balancing the two had led her to a full-on breakdown.

"During the war I was captured, a curse was used to torture me repeatedly; a slur was carved into my arm." She pulled away from her mother's embrace, as comfortable as it was, to get her wand from within her robes. She then used it to remove the glamour she put on every day. Even Ron almost never saw her without it. Her parents gasped in shock as they saw her scarred arm and neck.

"I needed to tell you." Hermione said. She was surprised that she wasn't crying. Maybe she was beyond that now. "This is why I drank a year away. I drank to kill the memories."

She saw the numb look of horror on her parent's face, the inability of a person who'd never seen war to understand a veteran's trauma. She found herself suddenly wrapped up in her parent's embrace. She didn't want them to let her go and they didn't for a long time. Her mum asked her to stay for supper and she did gladly. She even volunteered to help her mum cook, even though she really wasn't much help in a kitchen. Her mum told her to fix a salad while her mum worked on making a chicken.

"Hermy, can I ask you something?"  
"Anything." Hermione said as she cut up a cucumber.

Her mum hesitated. "Why did you fight for that world? I don't mean to sound awful, but you could've just walked away. It wasn't really your fight."  
"It was my fight, Mum. The old bastard was rounding up my kind."  
"You could've walked away. You could have come here."  
Hermione shook her head. "No, I couldn't have."  
"But you suffered so much…"

"It was worth it, Mum. It was worth it."  
"You know, you…you have a home here. I mean…"

Hermione knew where the conversation was going. "You want me to move back in."  
"You'll always have a home here. That's all I'm saying."

"I know, Mum." Hermione said. The thought had crossed her mind before.

"Sometimes I feel like we barely know each other." She sighed. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm telling you all this."  
"It's alright." Hermione said. "I wasn't around for much of my adolescence."  
"Why was that? You spent most of your time there, you fought a war there. It's almost like you consider that place your home."  
"I do." Hermione said.

Mrs. Granger was silent as she put the chicken in the oven. "Why did you spend so much time there?"

"I had friends there, people who cared about me for the first time in my life."  
"Didn't we care about you?"  
Hermione bit her lip. "Sure you did."

"You sound like you don't believe it."

"I know you cared now, looking back. But…I didn't have a childhood. Hell, I didn't need one. Maybe it would have been nice though. You made me spend all my time studying. I had thirty minutes to play with my friends-and you took that away if I made less than a perfect grade. Eventually, my friends stopped wanting to play with me. I was the boring kid."

"You didn't need them! I might have been harsh, but…" She was about to say 'look where you are now", but then she realized her daughter was a barely recovered alcoholic. "Oh God…I didn't…I didn't realize…I'm sorry."  
Hermione was certain she had misheard what her mum had said. "What did you say?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize what I put you through. I just wanted what was best for you. What I thought was best."

Hermione didn't know what to say. She hadn't expected an apology. In fact, she had come to apologize.

"It doesn't matter anymore." Hermione admitted.

"Yes, it does. I know we fought a lot back then when you were a kid. You must have hated me, but that doesn't mean we can't have a relationship now. Will you please just promise to visit more at the very least?"  
Hermione smiled. "Sure. I think I can do that. I want to move on from the past anyway."

They laughed and talked about old times during supper. Ron's name popped up frequently and her parents soon figured out they were more than just good friends. Hermione promised to bring him along for the next visit.

Before she left Hermione's parents hugged her one last time. Hermione decided she hadn't been hugged so often by her parents since she was four and fell out of a tree. She found she liked it though.

"I'll visit again soon. I promise." Hermione said. "I love you."  
"We love you too Hermy." Her mum said. Hermione walked away, then apparated back to her apartment. She sat down and realized she needed a drink. She hadn't needed a drink so bad in months. The old demons were back and clawing at her again. It was being in that house that had felt like a prison to her for eleven years. Hogwarts had been her way out of being dominated by a controlling mother who was aided by an enabling father. Of course, both her parents loved her. She knew that. But she had had good reasons for avoiding visiting home when she'd been going to Hogwarts. She hadn't admitted it of course, but she knew the truth. She sat down on the couch. She wasn't going to throw away six months of sobriety. This would pass. She clenched her fist, then drew her wand to cast an anti-addiction charm. Most wizards considered it an unhealthy crutch, but she needed it. She relaxed as the charm began to take effect. It should last for around twenty-four hours at which point she would be able to regain control of herself. Luckily, there wasn't a drop of alcohol in her home. She relaxed on the couch. She'd done it. She'd completed step four and made amends with someone she'd hurt. She'd actually started to work on her relationship with her mum. There was light at the end of the tunnel.


	5. Chapter 5

Ron and Hermione held each other tight as they laid upon the bed. Their clothes were strewn about the floor. Hermione had been in too primal a state while lovemaking to hide her scars. They made her embarrassed, but Ron kissed them as if they were holy relics. Hermione brushed kisses along Ron's neck. His lids were heavy, but he was forcing himself to stay awake. She often got annoyed when he fell asleep right after lovemaking due to her fondness for cuddling. She didn't mind it though when he lost his battle against exhaustion and fell asleep. She smiled. He was so cute when he slept. She rested her head on his chest and went straight to sleep. When she opened her eyes it was eight o'clock in the evening and she was hungry. She held her stomach and noticed the other half of her bed was empty. The smell of smoke wafted from the kitchen along with the sound of a certain redhead cursing. She sprung from her bed, not even putting on her clothes, and ran to the kitchen. She shook her head at what she saw. Whatever Ron had been cooking on the stove was unrecognizably burned. He looked sheepishly at Hermione.

"Sorry, Love, I don't know what happened."  
"It's my fault. I need to clean the burners."

"Oh." Ron said.

"Why don't we go out?" Hermione suggested.

"You might want to get your clothes on…not that I mind you naked."

She tolerantly smiled and rolled her eyes before going to retrieve her clothes. Once she got her clothes on she changed her mind and decided to change into a sparkly, red dress. Finally satisfied she began to leave the room. She paused first and looked into the mirror. She debated if she should use the glamour to hide her scars. She still did, but it felt like living in denial. She sighed.

"Ron, honey? Could you come here?"

No boyfriend likes hearing that when their girlfriend is debating what to wear.

"You look stunning, the dress doesn't make you look fat, you're the most beautiful woman in the world." Ron shouted from the kitchen.

"Come in here!" Hermione insisted.

Ron sighed and walked in. "That dress is lovely. I mean that." It was true. Ron did love that dress.

"I'm not asking about that." Hermione said in a more serious tone. "It's about…it's about my scars."  
Ron raised an eyebrow. "What about them?"

"You know I hid them when I'm out, but, I'm thinking about not doing that anymore."

Ron shrugged. "It doesn't bother me."

"Really? It wouldn't embarrass you?" Hermione asked, sounding unsure.  
"Why would it? I always figured you'd be more embarrassed to date me." Ron admitted.

"Huh? How come?" Hermione asked, genuinely puzzled.

Ron looked down at his feet. "Because you're smart and pretty and…well I'm not the brightest bulb in the socket. So, when people start talking to us, they figure that out."  
"Oh, Ron! That's not true!" She gave him a big hug. "You're smart!"  
Ron blinked. "You really think so?"  
"You beat me at chess just this morning remember?"  
Ron grinned. "Oh right, I did didn't I?" He flushed. "You really think I'm smart?"  
"You're the smartest, funniest, bravest wizard I know."

Ron hugged her to his chest. "And you're the smartest, funniest, bravest witch I know. And you're scars make you look like one tough girl." He traced the scar on her neck with his tongue. She shivered.

"Ron, let's get out of here before we get this dress all messy, alright?"  
"Anything you want love." He took her hand and they headed out.

At first Hermione was nervous walking down the street with her scars showing. She held Ron's hand and clung closely to him. He didn't mind of course and held onto her tight. No one stared or pointed. Well one little boy did and got a scolding from his mum for it.

"That girl's Hermione Granger! She got those scars fighting that very bad wizard that killed a lot of people!"

The boy looked at her, now with wide admiring eyes.

_That woman thinks I'm a hero._ Hermione thought. She had never thought of herself as a hero.

"The woman thinks I'm a hero." She told Ron.

"Yeah, I get that too. Harry's the one that gets most of the fame though. Ginny's so mad because he gets a love letter almost every week. She's just about to cast her bat bogey hex at every young witch in Britain."

Hermione laughed. She could imagine Ginny getting jealous. They kept walking down the street till they came to their favorite restaurant which was ran by a Frenchman by the name of Gaston. Gaston looked mildly surprised, but said nothing. He had a waiter lead them to their table. Hermione ordered her favorite, cognac shrimp. It was otherwise uneventful. No one noticed her scars. No one stared at her. They walked out arm-in-arm and headed home. Hermione thought that Ron ought to just move in instead of sleeping over all the time, but she wasn't ready to ask yet. At her front door Ron kissed the scar on her neck, tracing it with his tongue and making her shiver.

"Thanks." Hermione said suddenly.

"For what, love?"  
"For making me feel beautiful."

…

Just before sunrise, Hermione stole away to visit a grave. It was the grave of Bellatrix Lestrange. It was located in the Lestrange family cemetery. She was technically committing trespassing, but she didn't care.

"I'm not afraid of you anymore." She announced. Except she was afraid, which was why she was holding a bottle of Jack Daniels, just in case. But she hadn't opened it yet. She wanted to so badly, but she wasn't. She wanted to taste the alcohol, but she wouldn't let herself go back down into darkness.

"You gave me scars that will last a lifetime. But I won't let them control me anymore." She unscrewed the bottle.

"Here's a gift to cool you down, since you're burning in Hell." She poured out the bottle. It splashed on the grave. She smiled as the liquid that was poison to her splashed on the ground. It was no longer her master. She was free, free from Bellatrix, free from alcohol, free from darkness. She walked away from the grave of her fallen foe into the light of the newly rising sun.

_Fin_


End file.
